


Psych Eval

by TheShriekingOsprey



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: CYBERLIFE IS EVIL, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hank tries his best, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Nonverbal Connor, Other, author hasn’t slept in a day and a half and is highly emotional, look Connor is just in a really bad place, sorry it sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShriekingOsprey/pseuds/TheShriekingOsprey
Summary: A rough case leads Connor to a psych evaluation. Barred from active duty until it’s passed, Connor just knew it would go wrong.He couldn’t deny he wasn’t mentally... right, at the moment.He did not expect the aftermath. And no matter what Hank does, he only seems to make things worse.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Psych Eval

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I had a really shitty day. I just needed to write smth, y’know? Might be ooc or whatever, but it’s not edited, it was not meant to be pretty, and it’s not very happy.
> 
> Maybe I’ll add more later, but until then, here’s a scene for y’all to enjoy if you like angst.

** Stress Level: 87% **

The precinct psychologist was not going to clear him to go back to work any time soon, Connor could tell. It had taken so much effort to keep his LED blue, his voice modulator online. It had just been one case. One fucking case, an ex-CyberLife employee. A stress tester, who monitored the severity of his deviancy each time he failed.

He no longer had any desire to keep his voice modulator on. It was overheated and painful. His LED spun lazily, crimson.

Hank was leaning on the hood of his car, standing up at seeing his partner. He noted the red LED, the eerily calm expression, and his face smoothed into a similarly calm mask. “How’d it go, kid?”

** Stress Level: 88% ^ **

Connor shrugged.

“Okay,” Hank said, eyes flicking back to the red LED. “And? How’re you holding up?”

Another shrug.

“Connor... you know no one blames you if you, uh, aren’t  _okay,_ right?”

** Stress Level: 89% ^ **

Connor simply stared, a glimmer of something dark in his eyes. Tense irritation radiating from his stiff posture.

“Jesus, fine. Forget I said anything,” Hank said, pulling a face and stepping around to the driver’s side door. “I could eat a damn horse, so hurry your plastic ass up.”

And so Connor climbed in, buckled his seatbelt. Mechanically smooth, his expression distant and thoughtful. His LED spun red, red, red, red, red...

** Stress Level: 89% **

-

Connor did not speak on the car ride. He did not comment on the music or attempt to turn the volume down. 

Connor did not speak at the Chicken Feed. He did not scold Hank for his meal choice. He only shook his head when Hank offered some thirium, complaining about how awkward it was for Connor to just sit there while Hank ate.

Connor did not look at Hank. His gaze skirted around him on occasion, often getting stuck in one spot before he’d blink out of his thoughts, LED giving an extra spin.

He didn’t say anything when Hank turned off the road leading home. He shifted slightly, and that was all the reaction he gave, staring out the window.

Hank pulled over.

** Stress Level: 93% ^ **

** Probability of Self-Destruction: High **

Hank sighed, cutting the engine and turning in his seat to face his partner. His son in all forms but blood. “Alright, out with it.”

** Stress Level: 94% ^ **

** Probability of Self-Destruction: High **

Connor did not move, eyes fixed firmly on a distant point out the window.

Hank narrowed his eyes. “Look. I get you need space, but for  _ some reason  _ I doubt you’re gonna make smart decisions if I let you have it.”

Connor’s LED flashed.

** Stress Level: 98% ^ **

** Probability of Self-Destruction: High **

“Fine. Okay. It’s all fine.” Hank sighed. Straightened in his seat. “Let’s get you home, kid.”


End file.
